


Way out There

by where_evil_grows



Series: To Where I may Wander, [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Character Bashing, Creature Fic, Creature Harry Potter, Creature Inheritance, Dark Harry Potter, Eventual Smut, Familiars, Feral Harry Potter, Fluff and Angst, Harry you dumb baby, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nagini holds all the brain cells, Parental Nagini (Harry Potter), Peryton Harry Potter, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Powerful Harry Potter, Protective Harry Potter, Protective Voldemort (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Voldie you’re not helping, War Beast, War Beast Harry Potter, You too Hedwig
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_evil_grows/pseuds/where_evil_grows
Summary: There was a darkness that lingered just behind his eyes. Slowly growing, consuming everything he knew- and he welcomed it. The cold that seeped through his body and soul couldn’t be warmed by the fire, by the sun, by the light. It seemed like his only relief was when he stared up at the stars at night, lost in its open maw.He could see Sirius up there, his Dog Star winking down at him from so far away. His last bit of family gone, along with his trust in others. Those that he held close provided no comfort, no words of kindness. Not anymore. Harry felt as though they could see something growing in him-the coiling mass of feathers and teeth that grow within his darkness.Honestly, he welcomes it. He doesn’t understand why, but the black on his tongue feels like hope, and the night tastes of freedom.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: To Where I may Wander, [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014798
Comments: 121
Kudos: 536





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> Well this will certainly be quite a ride...welcome! This is my first fic written in a long while, and one that I really enjoy writing! I’ve always loved Creature!Harry fics, there just ain’t enough in my opinion. And so, I decided to stray from the normal creature inheritances and choose a beast that doesn’t get much hype. There isn’t actually all that much information on the lore of the creature, so I’ve added my own spin to the Perytons! I’ll get into the changes made at a later date/my notes and research on the beasties if anyone is curious!
> 
> (I have no beta, so if any of you guys spot an error just let me know!)
> 
> And heres some warnings before we start...  
> I would like to say that this fic will include death, heavy blood/gore(Perytons favorite snacks are human hearts so..you get it ;3) torture, animal death & injury, extreme violence, etc!! I’ll add a warnings later on if there are certain scenes that require it!
> 
> The title is from the song ’Way out There’ by Lord Huron, his music is aMAZING, and it helped inspire me while writing this fic!
> 
> 𓆲

**_“Nothing happens until the pain of remaining the same outweighs the pain of change.”_ **

**\- Arthur Burt**

* * *

It started slowly, the dark creeping up behind his eyes.

He felt himself slipping a little more every time that darkness fell over his eyes like a veil. That darkness seemed to fill the emptiness that consumed him. The sleeping world and the waking seemed to taunt him. He couldn't stop seeing Sirius' fall-his passing. That bright, cold green light and then nothing, as if Sirius had taken everything with him. Everything seemed duller now, the sun a little less warm, and the world a little less bright. Every day that passed seemed to drain him of that light, and he feared the day there would be nothing left. Would that darkness swallow him whole? Who is he without the light? Sirius seemed to hold the very last string holding him together, the barrier between him and the _thing_ inside. He used to fear it when he was younger—the aches in his chest, the headaches, the darkness. And now, the floodgates were open, and everything was collapsing around him.

Sirius' death impacted him more than the others could know. The Order must've thought he felt duller now over the loss of Godfather that it will pass like all things. And maybe it will, but for now, he mourned the loss of a chance, his one proper chance at a family since..well since ever. He mourned the years lost; the happiness shared everything that could've been. But frankly, deep down, he wept over the loss of the last shred of light in his life. Harry managed to form a bond fast with Sirius, hoping he would keep the darkness at bay.

But now, he was gone.

And every night as he snuck out of the house and sat down on the damp lawn, he watched Sirius' star flicker and dance in the sky. Harry liked to pretend Sirius was watching over him, always present, even in death. Hedwig always joined him, the only one to keep him company among the sea of stars.

This night, in particular, was the night of his birthday. Soon enough, it will be midnight, and he'll be yet another year older.

Oh, joy.

As he looked up at the stars, his brow set, and he cried to the midnight sky. He cried for Sirius and the years lost after finally being free. He cried for himself, for his life of war and constant turmoil. But most importantly, he cried for not being able to _feel anything_. He wished that great big void in the sky would consume him, take him away from this nothingness. Hedwig cooed in worry, hobbling over to nip at his pant leg. He managed to get a shaky hand over to give her a pat, she really was a true companion. His friends had all but abandoned him, leaving him to wallow in the silence alone, though maybe this was a blessing in disguise. The silence that stretched let Harry think, let him reminisce in what was and will never be. So he tossed them from his mind, and all the others he thought to trust; now it was him, and him alone. 

Again.

Vernon's shouting and sharp words did nothing but pour salt on his open wounds, and yet, he felt nothing. No flicker of burning anger and resentment he held towards the overly large man. Dudley was ever cruel, smashing him into the walls, always ready to sic his goonies on him during errand runs. But cuts and bruises wound fade with time, unlike this pit growing in his chest. 

When that overwhelming darkness crept up behind his eyes and flashes of bright green and black burst in his sight, he paused his mourning for a moment. The strength of the darkness grew until he was folded over, hands over his eyes, pain wracking his body. Hedwig was screeching in concern, but everything faded away as the pain grew.

He considered for the first time that this agony might not be grieving pains after all.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt; the darkness felt like tar, seeping through his organs and filling his lungs with the thick substance. He choked and gasped at air failed to flow through his lungs, his body seizing with pains unknown. His bones felt like snapping, eyes searing and mind fit to burst. He felt himself begin to drift into unconsciousness and thought distantly...that this was worse than the Cruciatus.

What a bloody way to go. 

—

Everything fell in and out of focus; he could smell something sharp and heavy on his tongue- fear. Flashes of red and a scream, an all-consuming feeling washed over him, he was **HUNGRY** . He felt so close, yet so far away...he was so lost, he needed _something_ but what he didn't know. Something told him it was near, what he wanted, _needed_. He was so close, but right before he could reach out and take it, the fog cleared.

Vernon's bloody face appeared before him, his small beady eyes blown wide in fear. 

Harry reeled back, just in time for a bright let to set off, and something slashed down his side. The veil fell over his eyes once more, and as shouts echoed around him, he fell back into darkness.

Something else ripped free, and a roar, unlike anything Harry's ever heard bellowed from his chest.

He then knew no more.

—

As the world reshaped itself, he found that the lingering darkness was gone. It was always present, _always_ . As he tried to sit up, the pain registered, and the sensitivity violently wracked his body. His vision was blurry, and a sharp pain hit him as he cracked open an eye. He was hypersensitive to _everything_. Could he feel the wind brush his...hair? He could feel it all over his body, now that couldn't be right. He moved to stand and take in the damage of the sudden..episode?

And yet, as soon as he made to stand his legs collapsed underneath him. A cry fell from his mouth, and he was startled by how inhuman it sounded. He tried once more to focus his eyes; something was obviously wrong as painful as it was. The last time he checked, his _arms and legs could not fold underneath him_ like that. Lights danced across his vision as the world finally came into focus and as he looked down at the grass below him, he watched entranced as each tiny blade sway in the wind. Why did it look so strange? He peered up at the sky and felt the world fall out beneath him.

Harry had never felt so small in his entire life.

He could see _so_ much. 

The stars were so bright, and when just a few minutes ago, he could see the few specks as they littered the sky. But this, _this_ was so much more. He felt like he could spot distant galaxies, reach out and hold them all. Harry moved to get a better look before his legs promptly collapsed on him. He grunted, shuffling his arms and lifting himself again with quite a bit of effort. When Harry looked back down at his hands, he promptly lost it. The sound he made surely woke the neighbors, the sound shocking him into a standing position. He flailed, whipping his head back to get a better look at his body.

What the _bloody hell_ was _this_??

He was a deer! A DEER! With wi-wait. Curiosity bloomed in his chest as he unfolded the large wings from their tucked position. He had wings, real feathered _wings_ . The appendages were massive, he could feel the new muscles Strain under the movement, but he continued to watch in awe as he extended the wings to their full span. He will be able to fly, _really_ fly, fly anywhere with how powerful these wings looked. They were deep green in color, and the feathers seemed to fade to black at the tips. As he got another good sweep of himself, he realized he possessed a dark grey-brown pelt, with various patches of greens one along his nape and flank, with a short feathered tail. He didn't have the sharp hooved back legs as he did the front, as it turns out. No, it would appear he now has a set of bird feet. Honestly, how odd.

Harry wasn't the smartest bloke out there, but he knew this wasn't normal.

Last he checked, wizards and witches don't spontaneously turn into some type of bloody creature! 'Merlin Potter... you've really done it this time.' Harry shook his head, annoyed when his own larger deer ears hit his face as he shook. He supposed the first course of action would be to get in contact with The Order, and in turn, Dumbledore. He turned to face the Dursley household to try and grab his things but was met with trees. His sharp avada-green eyes widened, turning to and fro to only be met with more trees and more forest. Where the bloody hell was he?! There weren't any damn forest miles around Surrey!

He panicked, trying to get his- well, _all_ of his legs to move correctly. Harry stumbled, realizing he probably looked quite similar to a newly born fawn. His legs were too long, damnit! One unsteady leg after another led him into a wobbly trot, and as he bounded clumsily through the underbrush, he saw no roads, nothing but forest. Ears pinned to his nape he leaped into a clearing, his long front legs tangling in the sudden stop that he fell onto the unforgiving ground below. A sharp bleat let his mouth; his side was smarting something awful. Harry winced, pushing himself on his other side to see what damage was caused by the fall. 

Harry paused, the large gash crossing his side certainly was not caused by a little stumble on the forest floor. Memories slowly returned to him, and all of the breath he held left his lungs. The shouts, the _screams_ -

The **blood**. 

As quickly as he could, he stood shuffling his legs as anxiety clawed at his chest. It was so hard to breathe-bloody hell, why was it so hard to _breathe_ ? He-he had hurt people, _Vernon_ , the Dursley's- Merlin, what had he _done_?

He knew he was panicking, but Harry couldn't stop, not when he hurt someone, its-its because of whatever he was, it must be. He's never hurt anyone else like that before, he...he had felt like harming Vernon in the past, but emotions made him irrational. When Harry was younger, he was angry and frustrated. Forced to stay at the Dursley's like the good soldier he was. But he gets it! He's in control now. He...he was in control. That darkness that was always there, with sharp teeth and feelings of rage so strong he felt as if it would swallow him whole was still dull back then. But this summer, with that last thread snapping, he felt that the dark thoughts he held back came flooding in. He couldn't stop it now. The floodgates were open, and what flowed through would not be put away so easily. 

Harry Jame Potter felt himself slipping. The persona he so carefully cultivated had crumbled before his eyes, so very quickly. All of those long years of trials, terrors, and loss were for naught. He had played the obedient Savior for years because he knew, if anyone ever _knew_ him, his life wouldn't be the same. He feared what Dumbledore might do once he learned of what happened. Fear like nothing else twisted in his stomach. What would happen to him? He knew Dumbledore would play the concerned mentor card, try to lure him back into his awaiting arms. 

But what would truly befall him if he went to the Order?

He had harmed people, and with these dark thoughts and impulses, what would they do?

Harry feared the worse, for he knew how far Dumbledore would go for the 'greater good.'

Birdsong echoed through the quiet forest, dawn steadily approaching on the horizon. The clearing faced a cliffside, the open-air blew with the chilling wind of the coming Fall. Harry took a careful step towards the edge of the cliff, peering down below at the vast forest. He appeared to be up in the mountains, most likely the Highlands of Scotland. How far had he flown to get to this place? As long as he was far enough to plan for the future, he would be content here. It was stunning up here after all.

A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest, his wings fluttering excitedly at the thought of flying. He missed being out in the open air, this year was as complicated as they come, with new hardships and losses. Not much time for broom practice this year when one is avoiding pink toads and Dark Lords. Harry mentally prepared himself. How hard could it possibly be? He spread his wings, stretching the sore muscles and giving them a few practice flaps. He could feel the power behind them; he felt gravity fall out from beneath him after a particularly hard push down. An exited churring sound left his mouth, and his heartbeat faster in his onslaught of emotions. It was overwhelming, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

The boy savior trotted quickly back towards the edge of the clearing before turning to face the cliffside. He mentally counted down before kicking off and racing forwards, his powerful back legs digging into the dirt and pushing him faster. The adrenaline built, and grew-freedom was right there. All he had to do was leap.

And so, he pushed off from the ground, and with a strong downwards beat of his wings jumped into the open air. 

Then shortly plummeted.

He was sure his screams echoed throughout the whole bloody land as he flapped his wings for dear life. How could he be so bLOODY STUPID?? He should've thought a little longer, practiced more! But nooo, he had to jump right off the damn cliff and to his astoundingly gruesome death. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing damnit, so he tucked his long legs in and opened his wings, trying to listen to the whisper of his instincts. They haven't let him down yet, so he tilted his body downwards and let the wind guide him. 

Tight flaps moved him forwards, slowing his downwards decent and leading him out deeper into the sky. His wingbeats grew stronger as he angled himself upwards, huffing as he felt the muscles strain in his new wings. As he breached the clouds up above, he managed to hover with little fault.

The wind brushed against his feathers; the feeling was calming, grounding. The sun was warm, he could feel the rise of day soothing his fearful thoughts and chasing away his worries. His emotions were steadily coming back, that place in his heart left for Sirius will always stay cold and empty, but now he had something to look forwards to. He, unlike Sirius, had finally achieved true freedom. Out here, among the clouds and trees, he can choose what he will become. Not the Order, not Dumbledore, not even the Wizarding World. Here, he is just another wild thing among the wind. 

He was well and truly lost, alone in whatever mess he seemed to get himself into this time. And as Harry watched the rising sun dawn upon his birthday, he realized that maybe he'd be okay.

After all, he's always managed to find his way somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to update every Friday/Saturday, and if I post previously in the week another will still be given on Fri/Sat unless explicitly said different. My schedule can be hectic so I will update when my work will get a little slow or there will be long delays.
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> 𓆗


	2. Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING; There will be animal death/blood & gore in this chapter, its nothing absolutely terrible, but heads up to all of y’all that severely dislike it!
> 
> 𓆲

**_"Hunger knows no friends but its feeder."_ **

**\- Aristophanes**

* * *

A white owl with speckled feathers and bright yellow eyes flew along with the early day's sunlight. The sky was brightening, and wind growing colder the farther the bird flew towards her wayward master. She had flown for hours now and was steadily growing more worried. Hedwig had lost sight of her master and now could only rely on the path the wind must've taken him. She was scared for him; Harry wasn't in his right mind. Though she would stay eternally loyal to her master, he had been suffering and truly scared her before he _changed_. 

Hedwig could feel how powerful the burst of magic was when Harry's inner self finally showed itself. She had always known it was there, and she had no fear of it. But he had fallen prey to his instincts, and while he wasn't in control, the beast seemed starved of what it _needed_. And yet. It was still _Harry_. She's always known him, the real him. The owl would share her master's hardships with him, console him as much as she possibly could. 

It was her duty as Harry's familiar to be there for him, and she would find him. Protect him.

She _must_.

__

Harry's landing wasn't nearly as magical as the flight was. 

Front legs first was a big no-no; apparently, the limbs must've been too weak to handle all of his weight just yet. He ended up falling face-first into the hard dirt, adding more bruises to his battered body. The boy savior huffed, rolling onto his belly and shuffling his legs beneath him. As he settled down onto the grassy hillside to let his tired wings rest, he noticed a gnawing hunger echo throughout him. He hadn't eaten recently, not with the Dursley's permission, that is. Harry was always relatively thin, and it seemed that his leanness seemed to cross over to this form as well.

What the hell was he supposed to do about food? He didn't have any supplies out here; he couldn't even _use_ them damnit! There's bound to be rabbits around, but did whatever he is even eat meat? Well he had to; he had bloody fangs after all, so he must. Letting his tongue glide over his teeth, he felt that yes, most of them were rather sharp. So he was a carnivore. Or maybe omnivore? He was mostly deer when it comes down to it, he would have to test it to see. 

With an ungraceful push off from the ground, he managed to stand correctly. After shuffling and folding his sore wings at his sides, he nodded to himself before setting off for the nearest woods. Harry had flown quite a distance, mostly glided around the large forest, cataloging the area and sweeping the land for nearby civilizations. 

Absolutely, bloody, nothing.

Harry supposed it was for the best, without anyone around he wouldn't have to worry about being spotted flying around. One less thing to worry about. A little stutter in his trot brought him back on focusing his leg movements. The rhythmic thumping of his hooves against the solid ground satisfied him, even more so, the feeling of freedom. Harry grunted before pushing his legs to move a little faster, the wild aura of the forest fueling him. He moved faster and faster until he was bounding across the hills and into the woods. Harry let out a giddy bellow, the sound reaching far across the trees as he raced by. As he got more used to this body's new movements, he pushed himself to twist-albeit clumsily-between the trees and to leap over fallen branches. 

Harry had never known such a feeling, such a rush unlike Quittich, where he would feel the adrenaline of flight for short bursts of time, only to realize reality was down below, patiently waiting. Here he felt as if anything was possible, he could run and fly anywhere, he could be one with the wild magic of the world and maybe, as a creature...

He could be free. 

The happy noises he made didn't even register to him as he galloped through the underbrush. He finally scrambled to a stop when a reached a river, which must flow from that lake he saw on his flight. Trying to calm his beating heart and heaving lungs, he walked down towards the river. Excitement gave way to thirst, to which he greedily drank. It was a bit awkward to be perfectly honest; he had to lean his head down and curl his tongue kind of...? Being a bloody animal was difficult; he stuck his whole muzzle in there before and realized that no, he couldn't drink and breathe at the same time that way. So he managed to lap up the cold water after a little while, as odd as the process was, it was a success. 

Raising himself to his full height once more, he realized now that he could probably wash off the dirt and mud that stuck to his fur after the few tumbles he took. With tentative steps towards the riverside, he slowly walked deeper. It wasn't too shallow, so it would manage to fit him comfortably as he bathed. As he stood in the middle of the river, he realized this might not be as easy as he thought, with the no-hands thing and all. Maybe, he could just lay down? The tide wasn't too strong, so he found it was relatively simple to plop down in the chilled waters. Oddly, he noticed he could _feel_ the cold, but it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. If he was human, he was sure he'd be bloody freezing. He tried to rub his face against his fur with some success, _Merlin_ this was difficult. Harry scrubbed away some of the dirt still clinging to his dark pelt and repeatedly dipped his head and wings in the water. That's how birds did it right? 

Water cascaded down his body, and he shook the droplets free before climbing out of the water. He realized the dirty water was tinged red. Harry's mind blanked as he watched the dirty water he left drift down the river. He hadn't known...so he must've bitten Vernon. How injured was the other man? Was he alright?

...did he really care though?

Harry found that he couldn't hold onto his false sympathy anymore. He usually had to act the part of Savior. Always kind, always brave, loyal, a perfect example of all that the Light embodied. Though, he never quite fit the position. He did what he must to fill the role of Savior, but blimey, he was tired of it all. It was rather similar to washing off all that mud, finally cleansing himself of the persona he had grown to hate.

With a great shake of his head, he turned from the river to face the sun. Harry felt the warmth wash over him, letting everything but this moment take his focus. God, he felt much lighter now, standing here in the sun. He could slowly feel that emptiness inside fill with something else, something new. _Hope_. While the cold feeling wouldn't quite go away, he finally felt content. 

The light was a tad bit irritating though, so he shut his eyes to avoid it. He could see much better at night now, was he more of a nocturnal creature? At least he could see without those dumb glasses. He was almost positive they made his eyesight worse over the years. 

Harry felt surprisingly dry after a bit, maybe it was a bird thing? He thought that with all this new fur, he'd be sopping wet, but that didn't seem to be the case. He discarded the thought, absently licking the water from his muzzle. The moment his tongue left his mouth, he was hit with an onslaught of scents. His surprise melted into malicious satisfaction. He could bloody _taste_ it. There was-it was a rabbit. A rabbit nearby.

The hunger he felt before came back full force. A thrill of fear wound up his spine, he didn't understand. He couldn't get the smell off his tongue, it was in his mouth now, and the raw need to consume it took over. Harry didn't think before chasing after the scent. He found the little brown rabbit near an open patch of grass and slowed to a stalk. He crept around the clearing until he found his opening. His instincts guided him, using the green of his feathers to blend in with the foliage around him. He was still until the moment the rabbit moved towards the edge of the patch, breath still in his chest.

Jaws snapped open, and the rabbit was quickly descended upon. With a quick crack, the rabbit was limp in his jaws. The warm blood coated his newly cleaned fur, and he _relished_ in it. The beast inside purred with satisfaction; he'd never tasted anything so sweet. But it craved for something else, something more. It was in here, no longer beating for the life held in the rabbit's small body was gone. But it was still _there_.

He dropped the rabbit and dug into its small frame with sharp teeth tearing through its corpse. When the little heart met his tongue, he couldn't consume it fast enough. Red clouded his vision, and everything blurred and twisted. The heart replenished him, fed him, made him stronger. More powerful. He ate until there was nothing left of the rabbit, and yet his hunger wasn't sedated. If anything, it only grew. He wanted more, _needed_ more.

The hunger licked at his stomach, ever-growing and splintering his growing fears. He couldn't stop this-this craving took up all that he was: body and mind.

Harry felt himself slipping again, so close to tipping off the side of a cliff, ready to disappear into the darkness below. He felt as if this hunger would overrun him; that he'd lose himself in this gluttony. The emptiness in his stomach wouldn't stop _growing_.

White suddenly clouded his vision, too bright to close-

A familiar cry reached him in the recesses of his mind, the cry of the one he thought he might never see again.

**_'Hedwig.'_ **

Harry snapped back into attention, focusing on his familiar hovering before him. She cried and circled him, keeping her distance. His craving for another _meal_ was still there, heavy and constant. The beast inside could feel the erratic heartbeat of the concerned owl before him, and Harry shook with contempt. He had never been so revolted with himself in all of his life. 

Had he considered _eating_ Hedwig for a moment there? His bloodlust thrummed beneath his skin, heady and singing for more carnage.

Harry ran back to the river, and violently threw his head in the water. Trying to rid himself of the taste of blood and flesh. The euphoria that echoed through his being after consuming the heart was still lingering. But the beast inside craved for more. He wouldn't indulge it, _couldn't_ indulge it. Because everything would fade again, and he'd lose himself to the violence of his nature.

He swore he wouldn't let that happen again.

Pulling his now cold muzzle from the stream, he committed to not falling to temptation. He would condition himself to eat plants and fauna, lest he loses control once more.

The cravings were still there, ever lingering, but he couldn't let it possess him. He was Harry bloody Potter, he can survive a little temptation.

Hedwig's churring call caught his attention once more, and he raced back to the shaken owl. He could tell she was exhausted, and he wished he could tell her that everything would be alright. Alas, Harry didn't possess the proper vocal cords at the moment. He knows she worries about him, and seeing him in this state must be so complicated for her. He wanted to comfort her but was still afraid of what he might've done if he hadn't been startled out of that state.

She could see his turmoil and gracefully flew down to the forest floor, nudging a leather satchel by her feet. Oh...that was his special bag. It possessed several protective spells, and he had found it in Grimmauld Place a while back. It had a minor extension charm, and within it held a few personal items he held dear. Sirius' broken two-way mirror, the Marauder's Map, and his favorite Snitch. He never owned much, but he found over time that the things he collected had to have meaning to him. _Actual_ meaning.

Harry slowly moved towards the Hedwig, lightly bumping her side with his muzzle- God, he wished he could hug and praise her for her quick thinking. She'd always known him best, and while his wand and the Invisibility Cloak were important items to him, they couldn't compare to the contents in this satchel. 

Hedwig cooed at him before flying up to land on one of his growing antlers. He couldn't quite feel her up there; his antlers must be strong if he barely noticed her weight. Hedwig shuffled from antler to antler as Harry tried to shimmy the satchel down over his head. When he managed it (only managing to get it tangled in his antlers twice) with the help of Hedwig, it hung from his neck and fit rather well. He can imagine he's much larger than he was when he was human.

After a rather eventful morning, Harry realized that yes, he was quite drained. While he was physically energized(must be the bloody heart he ate), he was mentally drained. He moved in the direction of the mountain nearby, desperately hoping to find a nice little nook to curl up in. 

To hide away from the world for just a few hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything’s all sunshine & rainbows until you murder a tiny rabbit.


	3. Unforeseen

**_“He has departed, withdrawn, gone away, broken out.”_ **

**\- Cicero**

* * *

After Dumbledore was startled by several of his enchanted object going off, he quickly realized that Harry was in danger. A smaller item that cataloged the dark magic input surrounding Privet Drive was erratically buzzing with alerts. Something was terribly wrong; how had the Death Eaters found his Savior so quickly? Another glance at his artifact shelf solidified that yes, the wards around the Dursley's were indeed broken.

In a rush, Dumbledore grabbed an Order of the Phoenix coin, meant explicitly as an emergency system should one arise. He sent a signal embued with his intentions: for everyone to gather a Privet Drive immediately.

The Headmaster apparated to Little Whinging after grabbing the first robe he found. He was tucking in for the night when the alarms when off, so needless to say he was still rather lethargic when he arrived. Though, the piercing screams that echoed through the night had indeed startled him into awareness.

The scene before Dumbledore was one he had not predicted. 

There was always a chance that Tom would manage to find a way past the protective wards, he hadn't expected it to be so soon, but he wouldn't put it past him. 

But no Dark Lord was standing before him in the yard. No, it was something he had hoped not to ever see again in his lifetime. 

He had believed them all to be extinct.

And yet, the dark creature that was currently trying to maul Vernon Dursley stood here alive. Several pops sounded from around him, the rest of his Order arriving sluggish but alert. He could hear their panicked voices, some jumping forwards to try and distract the beast from finishing its meal. Wild, _dark_ magic surrounded the creature, its aura wicked and **hungry** . Dumbledore didn't dare take his eyes off of the Peryton; he knew from experience how intelligent the animals were. He also noticed the spells that his Order was thrown at the beast had little to no effect; Perytons naturally had charm repellent feathers and a thick hide. That was if the animal ate _properly_. This one seemed rather young, so Albus doubted it honed the battle skills its adult kin held. The Peryton was not protecting its sides; the stronger feathers didn't quite reach its midsection, which would be Albus' opening.

Dumbledore cast a wordless Diffindo at the creature's side, effectively slicing through its vulnerable flesh and quickly catching its attention. The witches and wizards behind him promptly retreated as the beast turned in anger; the intelligence seen before had vanished. All that was left was the creature in all of its feral nature. Albus watched as it struggled to protect its side before getting ready to charge. In turn, Dumbledore stood firm, prepared to cast binding spells on the cornered beast. 

As his wand lifted, another behind him cast Lumos, illuminating the yard in a flash of white light. It's human shadow flickering into something wilder. The Peryton startled and let out a powerful bellow, quickly leaping into the air and taking off on unsteady wings. 

Panic gripped Albus; if that creature got away, the harm it could do was immense. Steadying his hand, he lifted his wand to the retreating Peryton, a less forgiving spell on the tip of his tongue. But suddenly, a large bird of white obstructed his vision. The owl screeched before fluttering off to land near Mr. Dursley, who was steadily bleeding out and seizing in pain. 

Molly Weasley hurried over to the Dursley's side, casting several healing spells in quick succession, trying to stop the bleeding and lessen the pain. The other witches and wizards quickly spread out, obliviating any on the street who bore witness to them, as well as the creature. Albus continued to stare up at the disappearing beast, worry curling in his gut. Minerva gently placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the Dursley's front door.

"Albus, before we do anything brash, let us go check on Harry. He must've been startled by the sounds, we wouldn't want any more harm to befall anyone else this night." She was shaken, he could tell. 

"Yes...let us hurry. Tom's spies may be about, and with the wards in tatters as they are now, Harry is at terrible risk. We will bring him back to the Weasley's until school begins again. Though, I fear many more will fall victim to this beast's hunger soon enough." Dumbledore began to plan his next course of action, the items and materials he would need to gather for when the creature is reencountered.

For he is sure they will meet again someday soon.

__

Hedwig quickly moved into action after distracting the strong Old One from harming her Master again. She'd much rather gouge his eyes out, but she feared it would reveal too much in attacking so ruthlessly. As the others scattered to do their duties, Hedwig quickly flew through the open window to Harry's room. She rushed to hobble under Harry's bed and yank her Master's satchel from its hiding place. Hedwig wanted to grab his wand and cloak as well, but she had sensed magic not belonging to Harry residing on them. She wouldn't risk it. 

Hearing voices near the door, she hastily flew out through the window. After circling down to fly after her Master, something in the grass caught her eye. It was his shredded clothing, and Hedwig descended rapidly, grabbing ahold of the majority of the cloth before taking off once more. She would drop it off somewhere along the way, but she knew the other wizards would think it odd that all of his clothing remained here. If it managed to throw them off his trail for a bit longer, she would take it.

Steadily gaining altitude once more, Harry Potter's snowy owl disappeared with him in the night.

__

Albus approached the kneeling three; Mr. Dursley looked nearly as pale as his wife, who shook and cried for him. Molly focused on healing the wounded man. It seems like the Peryton was going for the man's heart but didn't get the chance, tearing into his right shoulder instead. Albus trusted Molly to take care of the situation, so he let himself into the Dursley household. Harry's cousin, Dudley, stood white as a sheet near the door, who most likely had heard the commotion that was held outside. Albus' voice seemed to shake the boy from his silent stupor,

"Is Harry still in his room Dudley?"

The large teenager didn't answer, just gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and continued to stare at the door. Minerva's brow creased in worry, following close at Albus' heels as he walked up the stairs and to Harry's bedroom. The door was ajar, and as the two swept into the room, both felt ice pool in their stomachs. 

"Where is he, _Albus_ , I didn't see him downstairs-"

"Search the house."

Dumbledore's voice was but a whisper, the distress he felt was concealed from his tone, but Minerva knew of his concern. She was just as worried- if not more so for the boy's safety. If the wards were down, any number of Dark wizards could locate him in time, and they needed to quickly grab Harry and vacate this area before something worse befalls them.

The two split up and cast a multitude of searching spells, with varying uses and range. But as they circled back to the boy's room once more, they were equally more stressed. Minerva's tone had changed to something more distressed, "The boy's things are still here, his clothes, wand, and cloak. He couldn't have just left."

Albus spoke no words to her but swiftly descended the stairs and out the front door, facing a silent Petunia and Vernon. "When did you last see Harry?"

Petunia seemed dazed, twitching at Dumbledore's question as if she forgot all but her injured husband. The woman flinched in realization, still shaking in worry but quickly rising from her slumped position.

"It was that boy wasn't it- all of this is _his_ fault! **YOUR** fault!! Some MONSTER brutally savaged my poor husband! You **freaks** did this!"

The woman's screeching did nothing to quell the boiling terror that curled in his gut and didn't find it hard to release a portion of his magic to curb her tone.

"I'll ask this once more, where. Is. Harry. Potter."

Molly glanced up from her work, keeping just as silent as McGonagallas they let their leader do as he wished. They wouldn't interfere, it was rare that Albus grows so severe, but this was no light matter. 

The fate of the Wizarding world resided on the boy's shoulders, after all.

Petunia's grating voice was subdued as suddenly as it started, and she curled in on herself at the pressure put upon her. "T-the boy is free to do as he wishes at night. I've noticed that he takes to sitting in the yard start of this year. He..he was probably outside...tonight."

Dumbledore's anxiety tripled, shouting orders at the remaining members to search the area for Harry. Each person quickly went to work, but Alastor stayed put. His eyes were focused on a dark section on the lawn, slowly shuffling over to reach out and grab a piece of fabric in the grass. It looked like it was ripped terribly, and Moody looked to Albus in solemn confirmation.

The breath left Dumbledore's lungs as he stared at the cloth, quickly realizing that Harry must've been caught in the crossfire. How he managed to get away was a mystery to him- once a Peryton locks onto a target, it rarely strays until its prey is decimated- but now he feared that Harry may face a worse fate out there, all alone. Minerva's trembling grip on his arm didn't help to elevate his grief, but he did console her as best he could. 

He couldn't falter now. There was no blood seen on that piece of fabric, so it seems like they couldn't use Harry's blood for scrying for his location, so other methods will have to be taken. A grunt of pain startled him from his musings, looking back over to the three near the door.

Molly seemed to be struggling now, the bleeding had stopped, but Vernon was still twitching in agony. "I don't know how to soothe his pain Albus! With the spells I've already cast, I doubt typical pain-relieving potions would fully do the trick!" Molly's breath was labored; she must've tried several spells in quick succession to try to staunch the blood flow and alleviate his pain. Dumbledore called for Severus, who was just about to join in the search for the boy. He quickly stalked close to loom over the suffering man.

"I'm afraid my dear, that he will have to take several strong pain relief brews for up to three weeks. There's venom in the beast's bite, but seeing how young and underfed it was, it is not as potent. Severus, I'm sorry to say any use of a bezoar and antidotes for common and uncommon poisons won't be of any use to us. Not with this beast. So would you mind whipping up a batch of high-strength pain-relieving potions for me? Our friend here will suffer terribly without it."

Severus didn't respond immediately but nodded his head at the request. He was more concerned about the _stupid_ boy at the moment. That child always had managed to get himself in extraordinary trouble. "So, you must know what the creature was then." Snape's tone was as biting as ever, but he also felt unsettled by this new enemy. Why, of all places, did the beast attack here? How had it known the Boy Savior resided here? And more importantly, who _sent it?_

"Yes...though I had been lead to believe they all died out long ago, the new emergence of the Peryton at this time worries me. I was there when a student of mine cried over the death of one of the last few. Poor Newt had always seen the best in creatures, Dark and Light. But I was endlessly glad he would never Have gotten the chance to get too close. The Peryton's numbers had been dwindling for years, and the beasts are as Dark as they come. These beings were thought to be intelligent to a point but often fell victim to their more violent nature, thus being classified as XXXXX creatures under the Ministry of magic. Most of them were purposely hunted down in the end; the risk they posed was too great to be ignored. How one exists now, decades after its extinction, troubles me greatly."

"What should we do then, Albus? We can't search for them both Harry and this creature. Not with You-Know-Who's active reappearance. He won't stay silent for long, either you know. We'll be far too stretched out to deal with it all." Minerva whispered as she helped Molly raise the large muggle man to his feet, Vernon having passed out as they spoke.

"Our priority will always be Harry first, but we must keep an eye and ear out for the beast. My most pressing concern is Harry's safety, and we must rush against time to find him before Tom does."

__

Severus was torn.

He was being pulled in so many different directions, and each had their own respective burdens. His most pressing at the moment would come when reporting back to the Dark Lord. If information got out about Potter's disappearance, Severus would be severely punished for not coming to him immediately. And yet, with the oath he had taken, telling his Lord would end up in the boy's inevitable find; in the _wrong_ hands, would lead to...well, nothing good. He also feared what may happen when he tells the Dark Lord of the creature seen tonight. The man had always been keen on gathering things of power, and Severus dispaired what might happen if he takes an interest in the beast. And yet, he had to tell him, or the... _repercussions_ would be grave.

With a swift Accio, the Potion Master poured himself a grand bit of fire whisky, desperately wishing for something stronger. 


	4. Where is Harry Potter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the notes at the end!!
> 
> 𓆲

**_“I’m too far gone to turn back now.”_ **

**\- Unknown**

* * *

Harry was gradually woken from his nap by sharp, angry words, and as he opened his bleary eyes, he immediately narrowed them in confusion. It was a little ferret..well, actually it didn't look all that small. And-it was cussing him out? He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it but feared the beastie's reaction. Harry shuffled back, jostling a snoozing Hedwig in an attempt to avoid its wrath. He could barely understand the animal; it was speaking so quickly he could barely keep up. He tried to stand and leave the little raging creature, but his movement sent it into a frenzy. The beast promptly jumped and bit down onto his retreating snout. Harry let out a surprised bleat, the sharp pain shocking him into a standing position.

Hedwig launched herself off of Harry's antlers and swooped down, probably screeching her own brand of obscenities at the offending creature. It quickly unlatched itself and flailed to avoid Hedwig's sharp talons. The ferret swore as it ran, the owl hot on its heels at it dove into a little hole previously covered up by Harry's relaxed wings. While Hedwig continued to try and pull the ferret from its hiding place, Harry rubbed his now sore nose with a wing. Rude little git that was, he knew he'd feel the bite for a good while. He must've been laying on its burrow, and while he understood that bit, being woken up from such a lovely nap was not very pleasant.

As Harry let Hedwig continue to antagonize the ferret-thing, he looked out at the forest beyond. It must be around midday, the sun was high and warm, and Harry ruffled his feathers in satisfaction. The late summer wind was cooler, and the contrast felt terrific. He was always melting in the summer heat at the Dursley's; he loved gardening, but it was not pleasant when forced to do it in near 80-degree weather. There was not much wind in their area during summer, the air dry and stale. But out here, the wind that blew through the trees was crisp and fresh, and the land around him was alive.

Hedwig's sudden reappearance on his antler got him moving again. Now that he was up, he might as well look for a place to stay for the time being. There must be a cave somewhere near the mountains, deep enough to protect him from the summer heat and rain. He could gather items to make a nest-wait...a bloody  _ nest _ ? The thought came so naturally when thinking about finding a new home; it must be a part of the change...

He better not lay eggs now, or he'll have an  _ actual mental breakdown _ .

Gently shaking his head to dislodge Hedwig, he raised his wings, signaling for her to join him in flight. She churred in understanding and followed his lead after he took off. Harry's wings were less sore now; he could feel how strong they are. When he gets fully used to this form, he'll begin to practice aerial maneuvers. He can do more now with his own set of wings; while a broom is great, it doesn't compare to the real deal.

Harry pushed farther into the air, Hedwig trailing close behind. They glided together across the forest and back towards the mountains. He gave his familiar a quick glance and released a grunt, quite pissed about the loss of his bloody vocal cords. He couldn't tell her what he wanted, but thankfully she could sense his intentions through their wizard-familiar bond. Hedwig screeched back at the challenge, gaining speed and altitude on experienced wings.

Now Harry might have screwed himself when challenging his familiar to a race to the mountain. He hadn't considered that yes, Hedwig had had all of her life to learn how to fly. And no, just because he is bigger doesn't mean he'd beat her in a race. 

Which he's realizing now, of course. 

Hedwig disappeared from his view, and Harry pushed himself to move faster. He found that angling himself downwards with the wind lead him to gain speed, and he continued this method of flying up and diving low to move faster. And yet, by the time he reached a cliffside on the mountain, Hedwig was waiting for him, preening her feathers.

The Boy Savior grunted as he landed, chest heaving as he walked unsteadily to the owl. He groaned at her greeting coo, shuffling his wings to fold by his sides once more. As he walked by her, she released a sound that was awfully similar to a laugh. Cheeky bugger...if he could frown, he surely would. Continuing along the jagged path around the mountainside, Harry felt Hedwig's gentle arrival on his antler; she'd taken to the right one for some odd reason. He climbed along the rocky mountainside with surprising ease. Harry found that his hooves' insides didn't feel as hard as the outsides, which were extremely sharp and glossy. The insides were almost soft, and spongy. His hind legs were calloused, and the talons used to grip onto the uneven surfaces managed to add to the effortless climb.

Honestly, he didn't know how long this trek was going to take, and he didn't necessarily want to take to the skies because while he can still fly, he was inexperienced. And Harry wouldn't  _ dare _ let his cheeky familiar become aware of that.

His pride just wouldn't handle it.

The sun was slowly setting, and after his trip to the top, he quickly descended, noticing that the wind was bloody brutal deeper into the mountains. Even if he had found a cave up there, he wouldn't have been able to fly to it. Especially during Fall and Winter when the snowy weather comes along. So he decided on looking lower, closer to the ground, but not entirely within reach of humans, should someone find him. 

As he finally reached a tad lower than midway between the bottom and top of the mountain range, Hedwig let out a series of soft clicking screeches. Harry turned and caught sight of a large opening hidden behind bushes and roots. It looked vacant, and he reluctantly flicked his tongue out to smell for any hidden creatures within. Giddily Harry trotted forwards, having found no traces of larger creatures-as well as anything like that vengeful ferret. He'd hate to run into a creature like that again, though he knew Hedwig would enjoy the free meal.

Harry struggled to get through the briars and roots covering the entrance, some managing to get caught in his antlers. Hedwig did her best to help untangle them, which would've been much easier if he had,  _ you guessed it _ , hands.

Honestly, it must be the only thing he misses about being human.

As he walked through the crooked opening, he found that the cave inside wasn't very spacious, just enough to give him room to freely walk around in, but it wouldn't be able to hold anything larger than himself. It was perfect really, just a place to curl up in and feel secure. He was so used to small confined spaces that even  _ this _ felt like too much. Though he didn't hold the fondest memories about being cooped up in the cupboard under the stairs, he had come to find it as a safe haven. As bloody depressing as that sounds, it is true.

Harry found that as the light of day slowly left the sky, he could still see just fine. Everything was dulled of color, almost black and white, and a tad bit fuzzy. But other than that, he could still spot the distant hills if he peaked out of his new den. God, it was so odd to think of this cold, root-ridden cave as a home. He distantly worried about how prolonged amounts of time spent in this form will change his perception of things. He didn't quite know how to change back into a human though, if that was even possible.

Hell, he really should be worried about that shouldn't he?

But after all this time, Harry found that he'd welcome a change of pace. Another way to live life, as simple as it may seem, he was far more willing to experience something other, than go back to the life he had led before. Maybe someday he'd consider it, but it just felt too soon. 

He couldn't face the weight of the world just yet.

Not so soon after being free of it.

So, as the once-Boy-Savior settled down on the mossy bedding of his burrow, he let his mind drift and fell away into sleep's embrace. Hedwig perched on a nearby root, watching over him as he slept, and listened to the distant calls of the night.

-

And as much as the Order tried to stop it, word was passed through the Wizarding World that their Boy Who Lived had gone missing. As quickly as it spread, panic gripped all of those who heard it; with the Dark Lords return, who would fight for them? Protect them from the evil that was so rapidly growing? People took to staying indoors as knowledge of the cause of the Boy Saviors disappearance got out. Many whispered that it was the Dark Lords doing, others that a wayward Death Eater or spy managed to get past the wards and tried to end the boy. And yet, none of these rumors were true. None heard of the beast with a human shadow that struck that night. No whispers of it he carnage it caused. 

It would seem that would be the only thing to be kept hidden.

-

The wards accepted him silently, but the active buzz of magic in the mansion was almost audible. The tension in the air was thick and nearly giddy, which set an even deeper frown on Severus' face. He could tell the Dark Lord barely contained his need to patiently wait for his arrival, and as he passed an erratic Lucius Malfoy, he knew his Lord was slowly losing his composure. If the sheer amount of his magic could be anything by it. 

Severus nodded to his shakey friend, who hastily nodded back before following after him. They both walked in tense silence until they reached the newly restored Slytherin throne room, in the goliath of a castle constructed by Salazar himself. It had become a base of operations for Death Eaters as of late, with the Dark Lord opening his ancestral home to his followers. 

The doors to the throne room were as intricate as one would expect of a Founder, detailed in silvers and blacks. It was adorned with silver Basilisks with gleaming emerald eyes. The large snake statues melded into the door shifted their heads towards the newcomer's direction, staring coldly at the two before the door unlocked with a twin hiss. Seeing as a parselmouth created this domain, practically any door the Dark Lord chose would only open and close at his will. The snake and Basilisk statues around the castle all held viewing charms, and each could be used only by Salazar Slytherins descendant. Both Severus and Lucius had strong feelings of unease whenever they resided here, feeling wayward eyes on them whenever they neared a place of importance.

The room that lay beyond was far more ominous than the door before them. As the two entered, the chill of the place sent shivers down their spines. The room was decorated with deep green tapestries, the silver threading making the black walls stand out even more. It was darker here, the two windows on the opposite wall to the entrance did little to lighten the area. The throne itself was black; the silver snakes that coiled around it stood out in the area around it, cementing the chair's importance.

Severus and Lucius stood before the first steps of the Dias, quickly kneeling before their Lord. Severus could feel how tense Lucius was, and while he wished he could console his fearful friend, he knew of the cause behind the man's wariness. 

"Severus, Lucius, my good friends. I have gathered both of you here at this hour to discuss...recent events. Do tell me Severus, what has happened? And don't leave out any details my slippery friend, I'm just as curious to know what broke through Potter's safe houses wards as the next man. Except, unlike  _ others _ , I will understand  **_ exactly _ ** what occurred that night."

The Potions Master promptly lifted his gaze, letting the man skim his mind as he repeated what had occurred the night of Potters disappearance. "Dumbledore had summoned us to Potter's safe house, apparently the wards had been broken in-how exactly Dumbledore didn't explain. He had also found overwhelming traces of dark magic within the crumbling wards, and made sure everyone was prepared to fight should they need to on arrival. When I managed to apparate in, we found the source of the wards destruction, and the dark magic. Except this magic wasn't of the typical kind, it was  _ wild _ magic, and utterly  ** overwhelming ** . Even from a distance, it was all-encompassing.  _ Terrifying _ . And in the center of it all, was a creature I hadn't previously heard of before."

The Dark Lord now stood, his pale serpentine complexion standing out like a beacon of light within the dark room, capturing all of his attention. As morbid as he looked, he couldn't manage to turn away. The man now had a sickeningly curious look in his blood-red eyes, fully trained on Severus' own. 

"A creature, you say? I do not know of many who can tear through wards this fortified. They must've been after all, if the Orders precious Savior was harbored there. Describe the being to me Severus."

Trying to ignore the growing interest he could see in the Dark Lords eyes, he responded in kind, "It possessed the body of a deer, but was far larger than one. It had the wings of a bird, and the hind legs of one too. When I arrived, blood had already been spilled. The carnage that the creature caused seemed to have frightened Dumbledore into attacking it. With how senile that man is, I would never have assumed the reaction he had to it."

The Dark Lord's fascination continued to grow, with budding recognition in his eyes. His face remained impassive, but the magic that seeped from the man told an entirely different story. He noticeably perked up at the mention of his dreaded enemy's attitude. "Reaction?"

"Yes my Lord, he had called the creature a Peryton, and had had experience dealing with one in the past. He looked extremely troubled by the fact that one had managed to reappear; apparently, they had gone extinct decades ago."

"And so it had...." The Dark Lord whispered distantly, slowly descending down the black marble steps and stood before Severus.

" _ Let me see it _ ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, I need your help! For future romance, I’m going to let y’all decide...
> 
> Tom Riddle!V,
> 
> Or Snakey!V?
> 
> Harry will eventually learn to shift between beast, half-shifted, and human-like forms, so which Voldemort would ya’ll prefer Harry to romance with? To Harry, he might find both appearances appealing, since Perytons are serpentine in mentality and form, he may feel drawn to the other’s similar features in this sense. On the other hand, Harry’s human stupid bi brain may quickly take to V’s older Tom Riddle appearance(because honestly who wouldn’t?).
> 
> Comment your preference below, thanksss!
> 
> 𓆗


	5. The Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who participated in my little poll, I really appreciate it!!
> 
> And sorry ab the delay, I’ve been with family this entire week, so I apologize for the wee change {:1
> 
> 𓆲

_**“For those of us climbing to the top of the food chain, there can be no mercy. There is but one rule: hunt or be hunted.”** _

**\- Frank Underwood**

* * *

When word was passed through his inner circle that the Boy Savior had gone missing, he didn't quite believe it. As he had heard in the past, the boy always managed to get into some form of trouble. But after summoning Severus to solidify this rumor, the Dark Lord found that not only was Potter vulnerable, but there was a new type of player in the field. One he found captured his interest rather _quickly_. He had only read about the Peryton in passing in old Dark tomes but never looked into the beasts much due to their untimely demise. 

As he recalled, it was said in Salazar Slytherins personal notes that they were beings capable of becoming _exceptional_ War Beasts. The man had tried to search for them to magically bond one to himself, much like a familiar. He wrote that they would've been prized mounts and ferocious fighters. Salazar had only mentioned meeting one once, and though he greatly desired to capture and break in the beast, he had come to realize there was no taming it. The only way to forge a bond between a wizard and these beautiful monstrosities would be through time and trust. But unfortunately, Salazar had neither the patience, nor the time to cultivate trust between a Peryton and himself. But the man had mentioned, should one achieve such a feat, you should have gained a loyal lifelong companion. One that would cut down any in your path and protect you from all who wish to do you harm.

And if that didn't sound enticing, Voldemort didn't know what was. 

As the Dark Lord listened intently to Snape's report, he pondered how he would be able to locate the beast. Because now it was certain, he would find that creature and claim it as his own. And after hearing it had sprung up from nothing, after decades of its disappearance? All the more intriguing. 

Severus pushed the memory to the forefront of his mind, letting Voldemort gaze upon the creature in all of its wild majesty. The beast had dark brown, almost grey blood-matted fur, with beautiful Slytherin-green feathers in contrast. It's primary and secondary feathers faded into a dark glossy black, while its covert feathers shined a vibrant green. 

_~ "...The creature is stunning." ~_

The whisper of parseltongue echoed throughout the silent room, adding to his two kneeling followers' tenseness. Nagini slowly slipped down from her perch on the throne; her large trailing form made little noise as she slid up beside her Master. She had been startled from her slumber by the slip of snake tongue. She had grown curious at what her Master would be so captivated by.

_~ "What creature?" ~_

_~ "One that I hope we meet soon, my dearest. It is another relative of snake-kin and will eventually be among you as a faithful familiar." ~_

_~ "Another familiar? Is that possible, Master?" ~_

_~ "Yes Nagini, but very few have a magical core large enough to bind more than one magical animal or creature to themselves at a time. And I, precious, am not a common wizard." ~_

While tying his core to two rather powerful creatures will surely wear him out for the first week or so, due to his high magical output, he'll be able to hold both beings eventually with ease. And while he feeds his familiars his own magic, they will contribute to him in turn. Once familiar bonds strengthen and grow, as do the magical capabilities of each being involved. Voldemort was giddy at the thought of how much more powerful he will become. And after a short amount of consideration, he decided he wouldn't risk Dumbledore's fear of the creature to put a stop to his plans; he would have to act fast. He ought to keep the man and his pathetic band of chickens busy, lest they manage to find it before he does. And as for the Potter boy...he'd send a group in search for him as well.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, hmm?

"Severus, dismissed. Go back and remain with the Order until further notice. I'll contact you should I need further information and potions. Lucius, go and fetch your heir. I need more information on where Potter may be going and what his mindset will be when dealing with this situation. We'll need all the insight we can get to finding the boy's location. Go."

Both followers quickly stood and bowed before hastily exiting the room, Lucius a few shades lighter than before entering. The Dark Lord stood and strode towards a hidden door to his left, Nagini following close behind. The door opened and closed at his silent command and trailed down the dark hallways to his personal office. He had a larger one more open to his followers should they need him, but he had to ponder his next moves _without_ any interruptions. With a flick of his fingers, Voldemort lit the fire for Nagini to curl up by. The fireplace lit up the room, its yellow glow shining a light on all of the papers and books were strewn about the office. While he always tried to keep it tidy, he often fell too deep into thought to consider the mess he was making. His other office was tidy at all times, but here...well here was different. This was Salazars own private office, and the man had so many notes in parseltongue for him to decipher, he never quite managed to put one bit of work down before continuing into the next. There was just so much to learn, and so little time to focus on his hobbies...if one could call it that. He usually ended up more frustrated after reading a few poorly written parsel spells, which would either cause great success, or an even greater doom.

Now though, he searched his shelves for Salazars jottings on creatures, mostly classifying as XXXXX Dark creatures. He collected a total of four drafts, _all poorly written_ , most likely rushing to finish before he was strung along to his next project. And while finding any information on creatures of this classification handy was remarkable, Voldemort dreaded the oncoming headache that was soon to befall him. Deciphering all of this mess won't take too long knowing him, but it was still irritating. 

As the Dark Lord sat in his well-used desk chair, he pondered his next moves. He would send Fenrir and a group of other tracking-proficient witches and wizards to locate the creature, while he would spread word to his spies to keep eyes and ears out for the Potter boy. 

The pale, scaled man leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and let the slow change take over. His serpentine-like features slowly gained a softer, more human quality. He filled out and shrunk just an inch. Still well enough to loom over any one of his followers(sans Fenrir), but without that extra lengthy skeletal height. Color returned to his cheeks, hair grew back, and his nose filled out. The adjustment between his minor Naga inheritance and his human form always irked him, his eyesight slightly worse than it had been two minutes prior. He had wondered what a full Naga's vision must appear as, since his own was rather incredible, and he didn't even possess a _full_ inheritance. 

The Dark Lord rubbed his face, trying to soothe away the strain of the day before hopping back into studying this mess. Dealing with absolute, chaos-craving, _fools_ all-day set him into a rather dark mood by nightfall. At least the truth behind Potter's disappearance and the reappearance of a new beast lifted his spirits.

Albeit slightly.

The man huffed before sifting through a stack of parchment before pulling a few blank pieces and a quill and ink. And as the scratching of a quill tip on parchment fulled the air, everything settled and relaxed. 

-

Word spread across Wizarding Britain that each spy and advocate for the Dark Arts should keep a keen eye out for one Boy Savior. Yet there was not a whisper of the creature that set this mess into motion; this was kept a closed secret between the Dark Lord and his chosen followers. And so, after several weeks, and many unsuccessful attempts to find neither hide nor hair of the boy or the beast, Fenrir Greyback and his chosen band of trackers stumbled into a pub on a late September night. It was some dingy bar in a sleepy town somewhere near muggle Middlesbrough; the place reeked of alcohol, and the quiet hum of conversation filled the air. Fenrir and his band grabbed a table in the back and ordered a round of fire whiskey's for the lot, each settling in after another day of fruitless searching.

Another man, seedy in appearance, sat at a nearby table, nursing a drink and playing cards with a few associates. The red of his scarf was dulled with age, and its ends were tattered and ripped. The black and burgundy accents to his outerwear didn't immediately catch an onlooker's attention; it was the quiet calculating look in his eyes. The man assessed the cards he was dealing with mild interest while he took in the sounds of the room. His keen ears picked up the newest arrivals, drunken murmuring. They had apparently neglected to put up any privacy wards.

"...I don't know why he's even looking for this stupid creature. It can't be that important. He's got my entire pack at his beck and call, figures the bastard would want more.."

"Yeah, but it's supposed to be special, aye? Some kind of feathered deer? Was' he gonna do with the thing? Keep it as a pet?"

"I 'suppose so...can't be any better than any other pet. I dunno why he's makin' us look so tirelessly for it. The bloke must be mad-"

"Quiet! Don't raise yer voice fool, not here."

The group's voices lowered and their conversation strayed into safer territories. Though since they were sufficiently smashed at this point, they didn't care to cover up their little hiccup. Though, it was all for the better, to their eavesdropper.

The man in the red scarf's eyes gleamed, and he slowly closed the game he was playing with unsuspecting movements. Inside he felt elation like nothing else. The man stood and bid his associates goodbye, hastily exiting and apparating once he was outside the pub. Once he landed, he strode through the night, approaching the shimmering silver wards. He passed through seamlessly, and once inside, he strolled with purpose through the small town surrounded by towering trees. The remote community was bustling with movement; people moved to and fro, dragging crates and items to their designated storehouse. 

Those that glanced in the man's direction were quick to avoid eye contact and focus on the task at hand. Each had a job to do, and none wanted to interfere with the man when he had his mind set on something. He approached a towering cabin at the far end of the village; the black and red flags swayed ominously before the building, ripped and worn with age, but still standing proudly. 

The heavy black doors opened to him, and he strode past the large foyer and into the main meeting room. Seven other people, all in robes of burgundy and black, yet each wore a different animal skull. They stood attentive and listening, keen on receiving the man's instruction. 

"I have overheard word that the Dark Lord has been searching for the creature of my Grandfather's obsession. There have been sightings of it, years after its apparent slaughter. I seek to find it and seize my family's true providence. In this world, in all of them. Our reach shall grow. When we secure the creature, our empire will spread across the Wizarding World."

Silence crept over the room before each member placed their palm on the runic table, chanting as the woods symbols glowed red.

_"VIVAT WŌDEN!_

_FOR REDFORGE!"_

After departing the hall, the man in the red scarf, Elias Glapsvin, trailed further into the building and entered a side room. The thick, heavily warded door was covered in scales of all kinds of beings. It shimmered with magic and vibrated under his touch. He pushed the door open, which silently sealed shut behind him. 

The room was coated with death, the remnants of wild magic all but disappearing from the objects they were once connected to. Creature heads lined the walls, each dangerous, each conquered and brought to heel eventually. Nothing eludes his family; they are bred hunters, trained to track down and defeat even the most powerful of beasts. But the one that had always held his full attention was the prized creature of his family's legacy. He hadn't even needed to hear the beast's name to know it was what those mongrels had spoken of. 

And as he looked up and gazed at the far wall and the large deer head that mounted it, a cold smile streaked his face. Its antlers were large and spiked, and the blood that coated it was perfectly preserved in the animal's death. The crimson wings that were mounted beside it never lost its shimmer but had grown dulled over the decades. Its maw was opened in a ferocious roar, its large fangs displayed in a last act of rage. 

His families prized trophy, and most sought after creature of the poaching world,

The Peryton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Harry & Hedwig in the next chap!!
> 
> 𓆗


	6. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed chapter guys, this December has been incredibly busy!! I’m trying to work around my full-time jobs schedule(it tends to be a bit sporadic) but I’ll try my best to continue on time. I apologize if in the future I don’t stick to the schedule, just know that it’ll get out to you soon!
> 
> I recommend listening to Lord Hurons ‘Way out There’ for this chapter!! ;)
> 
> (gives me good wandering vibes)
> 
> 𓆲

_**“The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found?”** _

**\- JB Priestley**

* * *

\- Three months later - 

The Dark Lord gazed out on his property, and the land beyond; the office was silent save for the howling wind. The man stood facing the large window in his public office, and the occasional sounds of frigid morning wind pressing on the window broke up the monotony of the day. It's been months since any word of the beast or the boy. It seemed as if both had vanished into thin air...and while Voldemort conducted the necessary raids to solidify his place as Dark Lord, and advocate against the Ministry and its Light followers...the more important matters were still too far out of his reach. 

The search party had yet to come back with any definite sightings, just some peculiar deer prints and whispers of sounds coming from distant mountainsides. Nothing concrete, unfortunately, and even stranger,  _ nothing _ of the Boy Who Lived. No one has seen hide nor hair of the scrawny child since his escape during the beasts ambush. As much as he desires to wring his hands around the boy's neck, he's come to think about it more in the passing months. With all of the information young Draco had revealed about the boy, he had to step back and analyze all he was given. While the boy was indeed his enemy, Lord Voldemort has come to realize Harry Potter has  _ never amounted  _ to the role he's held. He was just a child, and while magically gifted, he pales in comparison to the Dark Lord. Because while Potter is the one prophesized to defeat him, Voldemort finds him  _ lacking _ . The boy has barely escaped him time and time again, and just by the skin of his teeth. He uses  _ disarming _ spells against  _ dark curses _ . Did Dumbledore ever  _ train _ the child? Truly?

It didn't matter now, he supposed; he'd use the boy's weakness against him when the time comes. Because while Harry Potter held the Wizarding World in the palm of his hand, no one realized how little the boy actually  _ knew _ about it. He excels in what comes easy to him but falters at the more complex spells and magic theories. Voldemort could see the boy becoming truly something, should he put the time and effort into it.

Alas, he would never get the chance.

Rapid knocks at the door startled him from his musings, and he waved a hand, unlocking the door once the engraved snakes on the entryway whispered of the newcomer identity. Fenrir strode through the now open door and rapidly settled his eyes on the bright crimson of the Dark Lords. He was breathing heavily, seeming to have arrived in a rush, reaching out and dropping four feathers, all in different shades of green and black.

"We've found it."

-

Dark robes swayed behind the man, green feathers held carefully in hand, trailing after Fenrir as they reached the apparition point. Finally.  _ Finally _ , he'd get some results after all of this fruitless searching, after all of this waiting. Lord Voldemort was not known to be a very patient man, and his obsession was slowly growing with every week that passed. Nothing evaded him, and while Potter had, he,  _ unfortunately _ , had the protection of the majority of the Wizarding World. This creature is allied to no one, so the fact that his followers had taken this long to find it agitated him like nothing else.

But at long last, they had found something concrete. Traces of it in Ireland's wilds, near a forest's edge, lead Voldemort to believe the beast could be hiding in the wood. And while the Dark Lord apparated to the forest's mouth with Fenrir, he now understood the werewolf's urgency.

They apparated straight into a blizzard.

And while the Dark Lord would prefer to use magic here to trace the creature's whereabouts, the wild, ambient magic coursing through the land made pinpointing it difficult. Fenrir had also mentioned that while his sense of smell and sight would've been a great asset, he couldn't track a thing in the snow. The scents are covered up by it, and the only way Fenrir could entirely hunt it down would be on the full moon, at his strongest. Lord Voldemort didn't have  _ time _ to wait and let the best grow farther from his reach, so he apparated back to the mansion to gather a heavier coat and the items necessary. He would not even allow his followers the chance to fail him once more. He would take matters into his own hands and succeed. As he always has.

Whilst filling his expanded satchel with items both necessary and unnecessary, the ritualistic method of preparation reminded him of his younger years, wandering the world in search of secrets held under lock and key. Lord Voldemort had always held a passion for exploring the unknown, and while this desire was directed by his own selfish gains, it still held strong in his mind even now. While he didn't possess the time to venture out and continue to search for knowledge of power, he could at least read over Salazars vast collection. And now, as he threw on his thickest and most charmed overcoat, a small, seemingly insignificant smile graced his face.

For the first time in months, things are finally coming together.

-

The storms weren't letting up.

After months of exploring and practicing movements and abilities in his new form, he found with the wind dropping in temperature and with it, his mood. Food was becoming scarce, and he couldn't take to the air as he'd like. The wind was growing stronger as the ice set in, and upon the mountainside, snowstorms had increased in frequency. Trudging in the snow and ice didn't bother him much; it was the severe hunger that settled in his stomach. He had been surviving on vegetation in late Fall, but now with snow covering practically  _ everything _ , locating  _ living _ greens was difficult. 

Hedwig was built to withstand the freezing temperatures and harsh wind, her breed of owl specifically thriving in this environment. And while Harry wished he could take wing with her and fly a few laps around the mountain, he wasn't yet skilled enough to do so. He only managed to learn a few flight maneuvers before the snow blanketed the land, and the wind grew so fierce he had taken to staying in his den until it settled. Life was growing more complicated, and Hedwig had taken to hunting for both of them, even if Harry never touched what she brought. The bloody mice she left for him often rotted and froze where she placed them; while he was apologetic for not taking her gifts, he would not submit to his stronger nature. Hedwig disapproved of course, she understood that he wanted the meat but just couldn't bring himself to eat it. It frustrated her, and while she remembered the times he succumbed to his feral behavior, it was making him sick. 

Her poor Master was growing too thin.

Hedwig could sense his magical aura wavering, slowly declining with his growing appetite. She didn't know what to do, how to help him. 

So, around midday, she spread her wings and left the cave, off to search for any shrubbery in this area and the next. Hedwig hoped Harry would stay put while the storm raged on outside and kept him grounded. While her Master was stubborn, she hoped he had more sense in him than to venture out to look for her in a snow storm. 

Although, on second thought, that was  _ exactly _ what he might do. 

With a roll of her large yellow eyes, she took to flying higher, her white form once invisible in the snow, now visible for the first time. She had found that her feathers were changing in color, from their once pristine white and black speckled pattern, to darkened feather tips. The new feathers coming in now attained a fade, and while Hedwig was a magical owl, she was rare in her own right. Her intelligence far beyond what her brethren possess, and due to being tied to such a powerful young wizard like her Master, her own magical prowess grew as well. She had not yet spent this much time near Harry in her lifetime, and with his recent change and acceptance of his new life, his masks lifted, and he held back his magical affiliation no more. As a result, her once white feathers changed and will continue to change once Harry grows into himself. Hedwig admits that she is excited to experience the truth of her Master and the changes that will occur along the way.

After drifting below the gathered clouds for an hour or so, the wind turned her south-bound, and she could feel the urgency of woods around her. She could tell Harry was able to feel it too; the forests saturated in wild magic whispered things, aided you should you be worthy. Many who wander into forests and find their way out after becoming lost assume they are  _ lucky _ . The wood can sense your intentions and will always aid those they deem worthy.

And they deem Harry James Potter worthy.

Hedwig drifted down and let the wind guide her to where it beckoned. She grew curious now, sharp eyes searching the snowbanks and frozen trees for any sign of what it was leading her towards.

Before long, she did in fact find what it was warning her about.

_ There was someone in the forest. _

-

Harry awoke shivering, the wind could only blow in so much snow with the foliage covering the opening, but the biting breeze surely made its way through. He hadn't truly felt the cold since he was human, but Merlin had that felt like ages ago. He found that whilst he slowly starved, his strength was leaving him. Harry could feel the heavy brush of the wind against his fur and feathers, no longer providing the warmth they had before. It was harder to trudge through the growing snow day after day. Weeks after the snow started and the greenery fell from branches, his only food source disappeared. Harry had taken to conserving energy by resting for days on end in his cave. It partially worked, he was still hungry whenever he woke, but hunger has been a constant throughout his life.

He was used to it by this point.

The Peryton huffed, pushing himself to his feet after days of lying still. His body shook, and he stretched as best he could, wings fluttering in their desire to be used. God, how he wished the skies would clear so he could actually  _ stretch _ his bloody wings again. Alas, the heavy snow trying to drift in through the den's entrance spoke otherwise. Harry peered around the enclosed space, Hedwig nowhere in sight. 'She must've gone out to search for food again..', and while the wind blew harder, he pushed the branches covering the mouth of the cave aside, looking out at the blanketed land. It wasn't dark yet, but hours had passed since midday. The sun was slowly falling from the sky, and Harry knew Hedwig had a mere hour or so before the sky would darken. 

It had been quite a while since he went out looking for greenery; he might as well search while Hedwig finished her rounds. Shuffling through the fallen branches and barren bushes, Harry slowly made his way down the mountain. Thankfully, his hooves and taloned feet had a near-perfect grip on the icy mountain rocks, making for a relatively easy trip. At the bottom, the Peryton tucked his wings close to himself, trying to provide some warmth and protection from the icy wind. Trudging through the snow was a chore, but he followed the path he often took out into the larger wood near the mountainside.

He better find some frozen berries, or even mushrooms and dried grass today. Harry didn't fancy digesting tree bark and twigs again.

-

The Dark Lord had been wandering through the forest for about an hour now, with no trace of the beast. He had reverted to his original form; his serpentine attributes wouldn't be able to withstand this weather properly. His snake-blood would keep him frozen and immobile at this temperature, even at half-inheritance. Even in his more human form, he was bloody  _ freezing _ . The layered warming charms did little to appease the chill under his skin, and as he pushed his black scarf to cover more of his face, his obscuring hood managed to keep some of the snow from his eyes. The storm was really in full swing now, the wind tugging harshly at his clothing as he made his way deeper into the forest. 

A shadow passing overhead caught his attention, and he quickly looked up to watch a bird circle above. He ignored it for the time being, but after hiking up a nearby hillside, he found the bird was still trailing close behind. His suspicions arose when he stopped, and the bird circled just above him now. The Dark Lord was close to grabbing his wand and ending the potential nuance here and now, but it suddenly dove and landed on a nearby tree. Voldemort's eyes narrowed, and he entirely raised his wand now, aiming it at the bird with little hesitation. Now that he got a good look at it, the bird was an owl, a snowy owl to be precise. It quickly reminded him of the owl the Potter child possessed, but at a second glance, this one looked different from the one previously described. It had the typical yellow eyes and white body, but its tail and bits of its wings faded into blacks and greys. 

The owl shuffled itself on the branch before letting out a warning screech, fluffing itself up to appear more threatening. To be fair, it was doing a splendid job; the bird's intimidation tactics didn't affect him, but it would've scared off other passerby's. Though this forest was deep into Ireland's wilds, and the closest town was  _ miles _ away.

In a sudden flurry of white feathers, the bird had attempted to dig its talons into his shielded face. Had he not moved aside, the owl's thick claws would've certainly inflicted a massive amount of damage. The Dark Lord quickly threw up a protego and watched the bird take swooping dives repeatedly, only to be deflected by the shield. After a few attempts, it flew back to its perch on the tree and hissed, watching him with sharp eyes. Or, more specifically, watching his  _ wand hand _ . 

How curious...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is everyone ready for our first Harry & Voldie meeting next chap?
> 
> 𓆗


	7. Red Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the delay, I’ve been so incredibly busy!! ‘Twas my birthday last weekend and I spent time with family and friends the entire goddamn weekend(not a bad thing! just never got the chance to continue writing this chap!) and as a plus, I’m quitting my job, and have another lined up that has a far less ridged work schedule!!
> 
> As for this chapter, my GOODNESS was it a pain >:0  
> Had to re-write this puppy 3 times, and finished a some art for this chap and others in the past week! 
> 
> Since you’ve all been so patient I made this chap a wee bit longer, hope ya’ll enjoy it!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> This chapter will include violence and blood/gore! Please acknowledge this this fic is not for the faint of heart, and is rated Explicit for a reason!
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> 𓆲

_**“When my tracks are well and gone, and the snow is laced with blood, will you know it was I who ran? Or I, who fought?”** _

**\- Unknown**

* * *

The owl's flurry of attacks made the Dark Lord take a step back to process this situation. 

This owl must be of a magical breed then, its intelligence uncanny to those he had seen before. It was aware of the fact that he was a wizard and seen as a threat. Voldemort tilted his head, slowly placing his wand back in its holster inside his sleeve, out of sight. The owl twitched but made no move from its branch. It's feathers slowly lowered from its offensive state, but it didn't seem to lower its guard, still closely watching him. The Dark Lord had to admit; the owl was a rather surprising find. Usually, this breed would be found far in the north, not in _Ireland_ of all places. 

As he pondered, the man cloaked in black opened his bag from under heavy fabrics to retrieve bits of meat. He had read that Peryton's fancied meats and vegetation alike, so he packed both. And the most basic method in trying to tame any beast was through food.

The meat was tossed out near the tree, and he could've levitated it to the very branch the owl was on but didn't want to anger it by using magic once more. The snowy owl cautiously looked from the meat back to the man, seemingly contemplating its choices. Before long, the idea of food in the bird's empty stomach won out, and it gracefully fluttered down to the forest floor to grab the meat before flying right back up to its perch. 

After it finished the meat, the bird stared at him unblinking. It took to the air and landed just a ways away from him. It hooted demandingly, and with a sigh, Voldemort reached into his bag and retrieved another meat chunk. Once tossed to the owl, the meat quickly disappeared, and the bird was back to staring at him. With a raised brow, the Dark Lord huffed before walking past the owl and continuing along his way. Hopefully, the snowy owl would fly off now that it sedated its curiosity, leaving him to his search. He had seen a mountain off in the distance from the hill, and he'd head in that direction for now. The sun was slowly setting, and with it, his time to locate the beast. 

After only just making it down the hill, the sound of wingbeats echoed from behind him before talons dug into his shoulder. The bird was large and heavy, and as the Dark Lords' red eyes met yellow, he felt a slight pull in his mind. Like a string had been plucked. It was faint, but the longer he stared into the owl's eyes, the more he could feel it. It was incredibly odd and distantly reminded him of the connection he possessed to Nagini. Not exactly, mind you, but it would be the only way to describe it. Voldemort slowly reached out to offer his hand to the owl, but it then proceeded to nip the offending fingers and fly off again. 

What a rude thing.

If it came back pleading for more meat, it wouldn't get a sliver out of him. He was far too generous with it anyhow, and in return, all it provided was scorn and stubbornness. Tossing the owl from his mind, the Dark Lord continued on his journey. The snowfall lessened slightly; he could now clearly see the mountain in the distance. It was only a little ways to go, and maybe he'd find a potential den around the bottom. 

After another hour or so of traveling, he stumbled upon a green feather, slightly buried under the snow, but _here_ , present in his hand. A sharp smile spread across his face as he scanned his surroundings, locating which direction the wind was blowing from and walking that way. He managed to find another feather before stumbling upon _animal tracks_. Actual, animal prints he confirmed it to be his beast after observing the foreleg hoof prints and hind leg taloned-feet. Giddy with how close he was, Voldemort quickly treaded after the prints, ignoring his growing exhaustion. 

He had to admit, while he was built lean with some muscle, he hadn't exercised this much since his youth. It was rather pitiful, but Voldemort wouldn't dare apparate back to rest and risk losing these tracks. After his reincarnation into this body, he had been slow to recover the power of his old body. They were essentially one and the same, he just managed to cultivate his naga side more so than his human form. He now depended on both sides equally and found that indulging some of his more natural creature instincts could lead to death and ruin. Voldemort wouldn't dare make the same mistakes again. 

After treading along the prints path, the wind picked up, blowing snow this way and that, beginning to bury the tracks he was so closely following. And as he walked further, the prints continued to fade from his sight. The Dark Lord growled under his breath, picking up the pace before finding himself in the middle of the forest, no tracks in view. The howling wind was his only companion as he seethed over his loss. Honestly, Voldemort was so close. After _months_ of searching, he had a chance to find the beast today, and it slipped through his fingers once more. He could come back tomorrow when the snow had hopefully died down. But he was an impatient man, and would **not** admit defeat.

He didn't know how long he stood there for, gathering himself and carefully concealing his magic whilst the creature in the forest be alerted by his presence. Very few magical creatures could sense other creatures and beings of high magical output, but those who could, would get a feel for others' emotions and feelings when approached. Many aren't as in tune with their wild magic as creatures possessing larger magical outputs are, but those who can, such as the Peryton, can manage to locate any saturated in magic from _miles_ away. If he wasn't careful, the Peryton would catch wind of his presence and flee or attack. The Dark Lord wasn't fond of either outcome, so he had to reel in the need to let his magic run free. It was incredibly taxing. 

With a discouraged sigh, Voldemort moved to walk forwards before freezing in place once more. A sound at his right caught his attention, a steady shuffling of some sort echoing throughout the barren land. It was rather close, and he silently crept forwards, wand warming on his arm. Oh, how he desperately wanted to put up a concealment charm, something to hide his form until he could properly get a look at whatever was making that noise. But as Salazar stated in his notes, Perytons have excellent eyesight, and while their _vision_ was terrific, they could, more importantly, see _through_ enchantments. When Salazar had concealed himself, the Peryton he was hunting saw him right away, which led to a rather brutal skirmish. 

The Dark Lord did not wish for bloodshed this afternoon, not of the beast, nor himself. And so, he whispered a minor silencing charm and crept forwards on quiet feet. Treading behind some leafless bushes, Voldemort crouched and waited for whatever it was to pass. He held stone-still, watching blindly behind the bushes as the shuffling sound stopped, then started again, far closer than before. With a tilt of his body, the Dark Lord peaked out from behind the bush, only to freeze again for an entirely different reason. With his breath suddenly leaving his lungs, the Lord felt nothing but shock and awe.

Here it was, in all of its brutal beauty.

It was even more stunning in person. The creature's snow-coated form almost blended into the surrounding wood, its fur thick and dark, a stunning contrast to its deep emerald green wings. But as he watched it shuffle through the snow, trying to locate bits of dead grass and nuts found under the ice, a frown crossed his face. Didn't these creatures feast on meat? Especially in the winter, when the greenery was all well and gone? Now that he looked a little closer at its form, he found that the creature seemed almost _emaciated_. Far too lean, far too little muscle mass. It walked strangely...like it hadn't stood in days, shaking at every harsh brush of wind.

Not at all the pinnacle of strength and terror he was expecting.

With another silent step forwards, he cautiously rose from his position to get a better look. 

That was, of course, when the bloody owl made its entrance. 

The bird shrieked and dove from him, through the trees and right over his head, swooping low to swipe at the Dark Lords peaking head. He quickly dove to the side-the _wrong_ side that is-and now found himself out in the open, staring straight into the most vibrant green eyes he had ever had the experience of seeing. Something tugged at the back of his mind, an offhand similarity...but of course, his attention was quickly caught by the startled movement of the creature. The three of them stood frozen, each waiting for the other to make a move. There was a lingering panic in the Perytons eyes, and while it put up a strong front, Voldemort could see the _truth_. It stood quite tall despite its lacking strength and spread its wings in warning. 

Then several things happened at the same time. 

The snowy owl screeched once more, and that startled the Peryton into action. The creature quickly turned and raced off, moving as fast as possible away from him. The Dark Lord growled before giving in to the chase, trudging after the Peryton as fast as he could in this weather.

The three ran all across the forest, heading towards the mountain. The owl kept up alongside the Peryton, flitting around it, trying to guide it in its frantic state. The beast didn't seem to listen too well though, and while Voldemort lost sight of the two multiple times, the Peryton in its weaker state was slowed by the wind and exhausted by the chase. He'd rather not take flight in this weather; his method was best used during calm weather. He didn't want to become distracted by the harsh wind and lose the thing he was so adamantly seeking. 

Eventually, they had made it up the mountain. The wind had grown harsher, beating against him as if warning him of the peril that might befall the Dark Lord, should he go higher. But he was confident in his skills and pushed forward. The beast had disappeared into the mountains, and while he tried to quickly follow, the creature outmatched him. Climbing the rocky mountainside was difficult, and he managed to get a few scrapes while treading the icy trail. After eventually stopping at a cliffside to catch his breath, Voldemort hissed in frustration. 

He had been so close.

And while he knew he wanted to continue to push forward, he had to keep himself in check. It would be too far of a risk to wander up the mountainside in a bloody blizzard. And as the Dark Lord looked out at the setting sun, he knew he couldn't continue on today. While he was Lord Voldemort, he knew even _he_ was wandering into unknown territory without much of a plan. There could certainly be other formidable things on the mountainside, and he did not wish to tangle with any of them. 

So, rather discouraged and seething, Voldemort turned to apparate when something out of his peripheral startled him into dodging to the side. Quickly turning, the Dark Lord didn't have time to avoid the maw of teeth heading his way.

-

Harry had been wandering for hours.

With no Hedwig or withered greens in sight, the Boy Savior dejectedly turned back to follow his trail back up the mountain. Why did he bother, honestly? Winter wasn't even in full swing, and Harry had practically consumed all of the vegetation in the area. It seemed he needed a rather large sum of food to keep him strong and healthy. With the dwindling food supply in the area, Harry would eventually be forced to move out to the fields. Sifting through the snow in search of the dying grass under the ice was, more often than not, fruitless work. But at this point, he had no _bloody energy left_ and couldn't make the full trip from his mountain to the hills before he collapsed.

Harry would have to find another solution. What that solution might be, he did not know. But it would have to be soon. His hunger would only continue to grow should he leave it as is, and he feared what might happen when he reached his breaking point. 

Grunting in frustration as he dragged his heavy limbs in the direction of the mountain, his body shook with the power of the wind. He really needed to get back, and as much as he wished he could pick up the pace, he couldn't waste the energy. While it was safe from humanity in this forest, other animals and magical creatures resided here. Harry DID NOT wish to encounter any at his weakest point. His head was bent low, trying to avoid some of the wind, and continued to paw at the ground in search of the rare bits of grass found under the snow. Without much luck, that is.

Then just as he was finishing his last rounds, Hedwig burst from the trees snowy canopy in a flurry of feathers and talons, screeching bloody murder. Cautiously taking a step back to avoid her fury, something rolled out from the bushes. 

The frozen breath left his lungs in one choked gasp.

The crouching figure rose from its kneeling position, and Harry took a panicked step backward, spreading his worn wings in alarm. It-there was someone in his woods. _There was someone in his woods_ . They found him. **How** ? _How_ -Harry thought he'd have more time, more time at least to prepare, to prepare for the possibility that they would _eventually find him_. He felt sick with fear but had to put up a strong front-maybe he could intimidate them. But he was weak now. He could barely lift his wings this high, they shook with the strain of holding them up. 

God, he was scared. 

**He didn't want to go back.**

Hedwig's second battle screech startled him into motion, racing off as fast as his weak legs could carry him. Which was quite slow, but at this point, he just wanted to _get away_. Harry raced up the mountainside, around rocky cliff faces and icy slopes. He didn't care where he went, so long as he shakes his pursuer. After finding a secluded spot farther up the mountain, Harry stopped to catch his breath. His legs were shaking, they felt as if they could give way at any given second. But he had to stay on his toes, the person may not be far behind. 

He didn't get a good look at the person's face, the large scarf and hood covered their features, and the anxiety Harry felt grew tenfold. Could it be a Death Eater? He knew they favored their black capes and ridiculous masks-God what would happen to him then? If they took him back like _this_?

Would they even know?

Whoever found him would not be a friend.

He knew those that were searching for him...had their own agenda. 

And it was _not_ in his best interest.

Harry was panting now, gasping and choking on the thin air. He had to calm himself, he could not panic, not now. Where was the Harry Potter that always kept his cool? Where was the bold Gryffindor? 

After reaching out to grab his bravery, he found it was a bit too far out of his reach. Harry was tired, exhausted, and worn down. This Harry was far different from the one that had existed a few months ago. _This_ was the real Harry. Cowering behind the rocks like a cornered animal, vibrant green eyes wide and pupils narrowed into the thinnest of slits.

Then Harry made the mistake of opening his mouth. 

He had made an effort to keep his jaw closed and to solely breathe in through his nose because the feedback from his tongue was often far too overwhelming. Too _tempting_. And now, as his mouth to suck in some much needed air, he forgot himself. Harry opened his maw and his tongue slipped out to taste the air, and as the world faded around him, his senses buzzed-everything narrowing down to one thing. 

**Fresh blood.**

-

The wolf bit down hard on Voldemort's unprotected arm, grabbing it and yanking too and fro to open the wound further. The Dark Lord was quick to respond(even though his arm was shredded and bloody, he curses the animal for its speed), and the wolf had been waiting patiently, it seems. Letting wordless brutal cutting curses fly from his wand, grimacing in pain as he did so. Voldemort was angry, no, _furious_ that he lowered his guard down enough for some _pesky wolves_ to attack him. He could tell they were starving, the pack of five circling and barking, growing antsy and skittish now that one of them had fallen by his hand. The Dark Lord managed to connect an Avada Karavra to another unsuspecting wolf before two attacked at once. With his wand raised, ready to release hell, **another** intercepted.

This _other_ possessed tusks the length of his palm, and a maw of sharp teeth to boot. 

The Peryton had come out of nowhere, sinking its superior teeth into the soft hide of a wolf, baring down until the wolf's whimpers dwindled out into a last desperate cry before silencing. The creature stood tall, wings wide-spread, eyes filled with hunger. The dead wolf's dangling body fell heavily on the crimson snow, and while the other wolves howled and barked in loss, they didn't yet flee. Voldemort concluded that they too noticed the beast's weakened state, and in a desperate attempt to hunt larger prey, they took the risk and attacked. 

One raced around and tried to tackle it down from one side while the other crept in front, whilst the Peryton was distracted. The large creature kicked out a leg, grasping the wolf sinking its jaws into its thick feathered hide. The wolf cried out as the Peryton quickly stomped its leg down, crushing the canines rib cage in one fell hit. The other wolf, presumed alpha, growled in anguish, launching itself at the Perytons front, attempting to sink its teeth into the beast's neck. But with a sudden flurry of feathers, the Peryton struck its wing out, slashing at the larger wolf's side as it approached. While in pain, it wasn't deterred and only managed to clip a side of the Perytons face with its bared teeth.

The large deer creature took a step back, feigning a defensive stance and spreading its wings outwards to express alarm. As the last remaining wolf charged again, the Peryton dipped its head in the canines direction, catching the wolf as it lept and impaling it on its antler's outward-facing spikes. The Peryton followed through with its attack until the wolf was writhing on the bloodied snow, its pierced body soon going limp. 

With a small step backward, the Peryton rose its head and stared down at the ravaged wolf. Its eyes were glossy and unfocused; the pupils contracted into the thinnest of slits, its lip curled back to bare bloody fangs at its dead prey. The crimson staining its antlers marred its head like a crown, and let out a thundering victorious bellow. The Peryton hissed shortly after, before opening its maw and sinking bloodied teeth into the wolf body below it. It was savage, merciless, _unhinged_ as it ripped into the carcass, consuming the warm flesh like nothing else mattered.

Voldemort stood, a little ways away from the action, watching the Peryton as it tore into the wolf with a hunger unlike anything else. He looked on in fascination, staying far from its reach but observing it as it fed. _This_ was what the Dark Lord had expected, a cruel and swift killer.

An apex predator. 

The Lord cloaked in black stood for however long, watching the beast consume its prey, curious of its eating methods. It first started with opening the wolf's rib cage, seeking out the still-warm heart. The Peryton opened its maw and let its tongue hang, inhaling the scent of blood and carnage before delving in and swallowing the heart whole. Untouched by its teeth, the heart would lay undisturbed in its body until the Peryton's inner workings would gradually disperse the much-needed iron until the heart was gone. It was fascinating, Salazar had written his findings on dissecting one of the creatures in his jottings, going into vague detail of its main eating habits alone.

Although, his writing was nothing compared to the real thing. 

Once the heart was safely consumed, the Peryton dug into the wolf's flesh savagely, ripping strips of muscle and bone and eating it without hesitation. While the beast was distracted, the Dark Lord pulled out his wand and prepared himself to apparate. The wound on his arm still needed proper mending, and while whispered healing spells helped clot the blood, it needed to be fixed and mended by the proper potions. Potions, he did not currently have on hand. 

Yet, as suddenly as Voldemort directed his magic towards heading home, the Peryton lifted its head, violent green eyes locked onto his form. Of course, the creature would notice his bloody magic, as Dark and heavy as it was, the Peryton could sense it immediately once released. It opened its gore coated jaws to let out a long, low hiss. 

And as much as the Dark Lord wanted to stick around, he would _not_ pick a fight with a bloodthirsty Peryton.

So, just as the beast charged, he took a quick step back and apparated with a crack, back directly to the warm confines in his personal office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heres my Tumblr link, I’ll be posting more art & research completed on the Peryton! I’ll prob post some fanart on there as well, and updates(it depends, I rarely use Tumblr, but if people want to check out the art on there I’ll update more frequently)
> 
> >> https://grim-eyes.tumblr.com/
> 
> 𓆗


End file.
